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My erection pokes her in her lower back and I chuckle, “Jesus christ,” she laughs, splashing me in the face with water.
“I can’t help myself around you.”
I smile, and I’m so content. Happy. I’m filled with so many emotions, that I don’t know how to compartmentalize them anymore, they spill over and soften my resolve. But I’m also feeling fear for the first time in a really long fucking time. Because tomorrow the shit hits the fan. Tomorrow we hit the safe houses looking for Grant.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” I ask her.
“I think so,” she starts. “I’m scared, a little, but I need this to be over. I need my life. I need you. I don’t want to keep hiding.”
“I have no doubts that you can defend yourself Spence, but promise me tomorrow you’ll listen. Stay in the van with Zeke?”
“I promise,” she sighs.
“Hey, you know what?” I grin.
“What?”
“You haven’t corrected me in a while when I call you Spencer.”
“I don’t feel like Aria anymore,” she shrugs.
“Good. Aria never suited you babygirl.”
“If I’m being honest, I don’t want to be Spencer Rae Maddox anymore either. He was never my dad. It was all a lie. It hurts being connected to that damn name.”
“Then don’t be Spencer Rae Maddox. Be Spencer Rae Price,” I suggest, running my fingertips across the titanium collar I locked around her neck tonight.
“Was that a question?” she laughs.
“Maybe.” I shrug.
“I hate you,” she says, splashing me with both hands this time.
“I love you,” I grin.
“Me too.”
And I mean it, it’s always fucking been her.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I check with her one last time, as I squat down in front of her, securing the holsters around each of her thighs, over top of her slim fitting, black cargo pants.
“Yes, stop fucking asking me,” she gripes as I run my hands down her legs. “I need this. I’ll go crazy if I stay behind.”
I slide a Glock and two extra magazines into the holster on her right thigh, and a drop knife into the holster on her left thigh. Standing up, I reach over and pick up a bulletproof vest from the table next to me. I slide it down over her head, and secure the straps in place.
Sliding a vest over my own head, I pull the straps tight and secure. Turning to my left, I face Riot. He hands me two Glocks and I holster them alongside the spare magazine clips. “You ready man?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he grunts, strapping his vest into place.
“Zeke, you got the ear pieces for us?”
“Yep they’re in the van boss,” he responds, holstering his own weapons.
“Han, Arsenal, Blaize, talk to me.”
“All good,” Hannah chirps from behind me. “We’ve been talking though.”
“Yeah?”
